


New in Town

by amyoatmeal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Dean Winchester's First Time With a Man, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottom Dean Winchester, Fluff and Smut, Hook-Up, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Spanking, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:02:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27864273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyoatmeal/pseuds/amyoatmeal
Summary: Dean downloads Grindr and meets one Blue_Angel.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 18
Kudos: 256





	New in Town

**Author's Note:**

> Let’s be real, I just wrote this because I haven’t written smut in a while and I’m feeling rusty. 😂

**Blue_Angel**

_ -Hello. I’m new to the area and looking for someone to play with. Would you like to meet? _

This message has lingered in Dean’s inbox for days. It’s not that he hasn’t seen it, more that he has no idea what to do with it, so he lets it fester as he turns the volume up on his cheesy soap drama, but after a few episodes in a row, it’s still gnawing at him. 

He’s been with his fair share of women. He’s practically notorious for loving women almost as much as he loves his own car, but drunk Dean is just as notorious for making knee-jerk decisions; namely, drinking _ too _ much and getting himself into trouble. That’s how he found himself downloading Grindr on his couch last weekend. 

Almost immediately he’d received a message from someone nearby: One  **Blue_Angel** . It was a photo message of said guy in one of those kinky, leather chest harnesses, followed by a text. 

Apparently drunk Dean— no, **IMPALA67** – had decided for the both of them that he’s most definitively a bottom. Sober Dean has been too stubborn to accept that just maybe it wasn’t a drunken mistake and maybe he’s actually been dying to get fucked like that for an obscenely _long_ time. 

Dean drains the last of his beer as his episode ends and exchanges the empty bottle for his phone. He doesn’t know why he feels compelled to respond to this one guy in particular. Up until tonight, Dean hadn’t mustered the courage to even send a reply. But he was drinking again, alone too, and sue him, but he was still horny. 

He’s gotten at least a hundred messages since the weekend being fresh meat and all, but maybe it’s something in this guy’s soft, blue eyes. Or maybe it’s something else. More likely, it’s that he’d opted to send his face at all instead of his oddly flaccid dick like some of the other randos. The jury was still out though because Dean had no proof that the guy in the picture was the same guy and statistically speaking the guy in this picture was actually kind of hot— like, shouldn’t have any trouble meeting guys in person hot— yet here they both are prowling around on a trashy sex app late at night. 

Fingers itching, Dean scrolls to find the original thread from  **Blue_Angel** buried underneath all the randos. Before he knows it, his thumb has typed out a long overdue response. 

**IMPALA67**

-hey

It’s nothing groundbreaking, he  _ knows _ that, but it’s a start. Moments later, his phone startles awake in his hand and he feels like he’s going to hurl. 

**Blue_Angel**

-Hey, Stranger. What brings you here?

Dean wants to say “too much liquor and some bad decisions,” but he doesn’t. It takes him an embarrassingly long time to come up with what he does say, though.

**IMPALA67**

-just looking 

**Blue_Angel**

-Coincidentally, so am I. What, pray tell, are you looking for?

The skin of Dean's lower lip turns white between his teeth. He releases it with a heavy sigh. He’s never written this down before. He’s never said it to anybody either. Until recently, he never even dared to think it, yet here he was clumsily typing it out and dramatically hiding his blush behind a decorative throw pillow. 

**IMPALA67**

-looking to get fucked

It’s the long, drawn out moment of silence before he gets a response that half convinces him he’s not cut out for this. That somehow in this sea of horny men, that one embarrassingly direct message scared this one self-assured gay guy away for good, but then the guy responds, and Dean wasn’t sure what he was expecting really.

**Blue_Angel**

-I might be willing to help you out with that. Would you be willing to send me another picture of yourself first?

**IMPALA67**

-what kind of picture?

**Blue_Angel**

-A picture of your face so I know you’re you. But I won’t object if you’re feeling inclined to send more. From what I can tell, you look exquisite.

The damned blush spreads up to his ears and down the back of his neck. He’s definitely not feeling so bold as to send this stranger a picture of his dick. But a face pic? He could do that. 

He gets up off the couch and stumbles his way towards the mirror above the bathroom sink. He fixes his hair a little as if to say he hasn’t spent the last few hours of his Thursday night laying on the couch watching Dr Sexy and then he snaps the picture. And then another. And then he tries another angle— a sexier angle— before he decides with a huff he doesn’t know how to take a sexy picture to save his life. 

He sends the first one he took. 

**IMPALA67**

-[photo message]

**Blue_Angel**

-I take back what I said before. I’m most definitely willing to help.

**IMPALA67**

-thanks

Dean hesitates again; he can’t help it. 

**IMPALA67**

-you’re not so bad yourself

**Blue_Angel**

-Thank you, ___?

**IMPALA67**

-It’s Dean.

**Blue_Angel**

-Does the idea of being dominated turn you on, Dean?

The truth is, just the idea was getting him a little hard and he didn’t know this guy from a hole in the wall. He wasn’t even about to start thinking of glory holes either right now. 

**IMPALA67**

-Like bdsm stuff? 

-never tried it.

**Blue_Angel**

-Would you like to? 

**IMPALA67**

-maybe

Approximately twenty minutes goes by where Dean feels that he’s lost him for real this time, but then the username appears on his phone screen again.

**Blue_Angel**

-I can work with maybe. 

~*~

Against all of his better judgment, Dean finds himself driving to a stranger’s apartment the following week with a stomach full of rocks and butterflies that not enough of the lousiest liquor in his fridge could alleviate. As it turns out, this  **Blue_Angel** guy only lives about ten minutes away, which just so happens to be the same amount of times Dean almost scampers home with his tail tucked between his legs like the pathetic shit that he is. But  **Blue_Angel** didn’t need to know that part so long as Dean could keep himself composed.

Dean parks the Impala along the curb of an old brownstone and kills the engine. He’s nervous. Embarrassingly so. He doesn’t know why this feels different either; it’s not like it’s his first rodeo, but what if he hates it? Or, what if he likes it? He can’t seem to grapple with the fact he’s been simultaneously dreading and eagerly awaiting tonight for the last week and he can’t tell which would be worse. 

The last thing he received an hour ago told him to send a message when he arrived and, God willing, he does, with disastrously shaking hands.

**IMPALA67**

-Here..

_ No more chances _ , he thinks as he musters the courage to come face to face with the stranger he’s asked to rearrange his guts. 

Standing on the stoop, looking out at the quiet, empty street, it should come as no surprise to him when the door opens a few minutes later, yet still, he can’t help the sharp intake of breath when he’s personally greeted by an unfamiliar, deep, gravelled voice behind him. He turns to find it’s attached to the same guy from the picture who’s looking unfairly disheveled in his business casual this evening and suddenly Dean’s tongue feels too big for his mouth.

“You must be Dean,” the man says with a turn of his lips, blatantly appraising his body underneath his clothes. “You’re even better looking in person.”

He says it casually too, as if this kind of exchange is a normal part of his day-to-day life. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, Dean mentally chastises himself, but casual hookups with strangers aside, the man smiles reverently at Dean as if they’re old friends meeting each other for the first time all over again and Dean can’t help but nervously return the compliment. 

“Hey, yeah, you too, man. Um. Nice to meet you.” 

Hastily, Dean retrieves his right hand from the pocket of his jeans and offers it out to the man holding the door. It’s sweaty and he regrets not wiping it off first, but the man accepts it all the same with a firm shake and a look of obvious amusement softening his sharp features. That’s how Dean knows he’s fucking it up already. 

“You have a very nice car, Dean,” Cas says, looking just beyond Dean’s shoulder. 

“Thanks...” Withdrawing his hand, he scratches the back of his neck. “Sorry. I, um— I don’t remember your name,” he awkwardly stammers while fighting off another bout of blushing. 

“That’s because I never told you my name,” the man teases and ushers Dean off the stoop into the vestibule. 

“Oh.” Dean swallows and dumbly follows behind as their layered footsteps echo up a set of filigreed steps.  _ You’ve been messaging all week. He’s not a total stranger,  _ Dean tried to convince himself of it the whole drive over and now he didn’t really have a leg to stand on. “Is knowing your name not part of the deal?”

“Is knowing my name important to you?” the man counters.

The question causes Dean to pause. He can’t decide if it is or not. “You know mine,” he settles on with a shrug.

The man regards him for a moment, calculating. “It’s Castiel,” he offers, albeit warily. “You can call me Cas, if you prefer.”

“Cas,” Dean mindlessly parrots to himself. “Not gonna murder me or whatever, are you, Cas?” He asks with a nervous chuckle and Cas laughs outright.

“No. I can’t say I’m a big fan of cleaning up blood stains. Sorry to disappoint.”

When they come to the door, Dean feels like a kid on a roller coaster about to go over the big drop. Curiously, he surveys the apartment - for what, he doesn’t know. 

“You got a nice place here, Cas.”

“Thank you, Dean. I’m actually new to the neighborhood,” he says as he meanders his way across the living space to set the needle of an old Victrola. “Just moved in a few weeks ago.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that. No kidding.”

“I don’t tend to stay in one place for long,” he adds with a wistful look. “I don’t know, maybe I just haven’t found a reason to stay yet. But I feel good about this place. It has good bones.”

The place is old, but intentionally so. Large, street-facing windows. Lots of houseplants and wall art. For someone who just moved in, the place looked lived in already. Dean used to wonder what these places looked like on the inside whenever he drove by. It’s got a lot of character, but he doesn’t dwell on trying to figure out if this guy appreciates that kind of thing like he does or not, despite the itching feeling that that’s exactly why someone like him would choose to live somewhere like this in the first place. 

“I hope you don’t mind a little ‘mood music’,” Cas adds, seemingly lost in concentration with a lazy air quotation tossed over his shoulder. “You did say you enjoyed classic rock, didn’t you?” 

Once the record is set, he blindly reaches for a glass of amber liquor set on the table beside it. Bourbon on the rocks. The ice clinks against the perspiring glass as he takes a neat sip and rests himself on the edge of the table behind him. Wordlessly, he raises a brow in Dean’s direction as if to reiterate his question, but Dean’s focus has been so finely tuned to the way the man’s tanned forearms contrast with the stark whiteness of his rolled up shirt sleeves that the accentuating brow does nothing to help him formulate a response. 

It takes a moment for Dean to realize there’s even music playing, but when he does a knowing grin splits his face. __

“Zeppelin II,” he says fondly, remembering one of the things he’d shared about himself in their messages. “You tryin’ to fuck me or marry me?”

Impishly, Cas smiles back and, for a second there, Dean has to stop himself from falling in love with the dude on the spot.

“Just something I had lying around.” He takes another sip and swallows smoothly. Dean can’t help, but watch his throat work. He has to clear his own.

“Long week?” 

“You could say that.” The wry look on Cas’ face says it all. 

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No, actually. I tend to prefer expressing my frustrations in other, more physical, ways.” 

“Oh. Yeah, course,” Dean stammers as though he’d forgotten the sole reason he came here in the first place. 

_ It’s just a quick fuck, you idiot. It’s not a date. _

Pushing off the edge of the table, Cas saunters over to him with one hand casually slipped into the pocket of his dress pants and a curiously commanding glint in his eye as he sizes Dean up. He looks to some foggy middle point in the center of Dean’s chest like he can see right through him and Dean swallows thickly. 

“I get the sense you’re nervous, Dean.”

Embarrassed, Dean scrubs a hand over the back of his neck to wipe away that damned telltale flush. “Sorry.“

“No need to apologize— I understand. I assure you, though, you don’t need to be nervous. It’s all up to you.” Cas looks into what’s left of his bourbon and back to Dean. “Would you care for a drink? It might help you relax.”

For some unknown reason, Dean finds he actually wants to be sober for whatever happens next. 

“I shouldn’t,” Dean says, preparing to give an explanation, but Cas doesn’t ask for one. “But, I— um.” He wets his dry mouth and can’t meet Cas’ eye. “Look, man, I’m gonna level with you. I’ve never done this stuff before.” 

“So you said.”

“No, like  _ any of it _ .” He blusters at his own awkward admittance and if he felt self conscious before, it’s increased tenfold in the puzzling way Cas tilts his head. 

“You mean…?”

Dean releases a trapped breath. “I’m wasting your time.” He wrings his hands and gets the strong urge to cut and run, but Cas must sense it first. “I should just go.”

“I’d like you to stay,” he voices, and surprisingly Dean finds himself unable to move. Cas’ sights never waver once they hold Dean’s attention. “If you’re uncomfortable with any of this, I won’t pressure you. We can talk, if you’d prefer, or we can work up to it. I’m also perfectly capable of having vanilla sex as much as the next person if that is something you’re more interested in. We can do whatever you’re comfortable with; you need only ask.”

Dean’s eyes dance between his and he can tell on some fundamental level that a guy like Cas always says exactly what he means. He doesn’t know him from a hole in the wall, but he feels like he might have liked to under different circumstances first. As it is, though, they’re already here and Cas feels trustworthy, comfortable, and that’s good enough for Dean. 

“I want it.” 

“What do you want?”

“You,” Dean decides and Cas’ relief is palpable. Gesturing vaguely at Cas’ chest, he adds, “I still want to see you in your little leather thing, remember?” 

“Mmh,” Cas grunts as though he’d only just remembered and finishes the rest of his drink off in one easy, practiced swallow. He sets the glass down on the closest available surface and smirks at Dean. “That can be arranged.” Extending a hand out, he simply says, “Come with me.” 

“Isn’t it a little early for that part?” 

Cas arches a brow, but doesn’t dignify the question any further than that. His features are warm, but his blue eyes are absorbed in darkness. He directs his gaze to his outstretched, open hand and Dean finally gets the message to take it. Just having Cas’ thick fingers entwining around his own sends a thrill coursing through him. 

Leading them down a short hallway towards the bedroom, Cas flicks on a lamp upon entering. “Make yourself comfortable,” he says, releasing Dean’s hand, “I’ll only be a few moments.”

He excuses himself and disappears into the walk-in closet and Dean’s left to his own devices, uselessly standing in the middle of the dimly-lit room. It’s spacious and just as aesthetically curated as the rest of the apartment with the same picture windows and just as many houseplants; Dean feels like he’s stepped into one of those fancy architectural digest magazines and he’s not quite sure he belongs here, but the fact of the matter is that he’s here anyway. 

He studies the outskirts of the room, the view from the bedroom window, the feeling of the soft bedding beneath his fingers. He imagines what it might be like to live here instead of the dumpy apartment he has on the other side of town. He’s in the middle of staring at a row of black and white photographs strung up on the wall when he’s suddenly very much attuned to the other man’s presence sidling up to his back. 

“Did you take these?” Dean asks, still absorbed in the images. 

“I did,” Cas replies thoughtfully as he places a soft, dithering kiss to the back of Dean’s neck. “I’m a photographer.”

The feeling sparks a low fire along Dean’s skin like kindling. “I don’t know nothin’ about art, but from where I’m standing, you’re really good.”

“Thank you.” All at once, Dean finds his middle ensconced in Cas’ bare arms and he tries not to let his nerves show more than they already have. “You know, I’m very glad you decided to keep me company tonight,” Cas discloses sweetly against the shell of Dean’s ear. 

His lips graze Dean’s ear and the closeness of it makes Dean shiver. “Yeah?” 

“ _ Yes _ ,” Cas purrs low and even, even as his hands start to tease Dean’s t-shirt from his jeans. “I’ve thought about having you like this all week,” he says, reaching for the button of Dean’s fly. “What you would look like on my cock.” It pops open with hardly any effort. “I bet you’re so  _ tight _ .”

“Cas—” Dean swallows around the frog in his throat. 

Cas slips his hand in slowly, one hand palming Dean over his underwear and the other running over his soft stomach, under his t-shirt. Dean has to stifle a groan as Cas kisses and nips along the crook of his neck. 

“Don’t,” Cas lightly admonishes. “If it feels good, I want to be the first to know.” Carefully, he pushes Dean’s underwear down past his balls and begins to coax him with his hand until a bead of precum dribbles out the tip. “Does that feel good, Dean?” The heat of his breath tumbles over the side of Dean’s throat. 

“Yeah, Cas.” Closing his eyes, Dean nods from where his head had fallen to rest on Cas’ shoulder. “Feels real good,” he gasps as Cas rubs tight circles along the underside of his cockhead.

“Do you remember what we discussed?” Cas asks between purposefully placed kisses and strokes. “Do you remember what you said you wanted?”

He can feel the long line of Cas’ trapped erection pressing into his ass and it feels so alien, but he can’t help press back against it. “Want to get fucked,” he admits readily now without hesitation and Cas chuckles.

“Easy. We’ll get there,” he soothes. “Do you remember what I said about safe words?”

Dean remembers. He’s been rereading their conversations all week. He can’t imagine needing to use it though. “If I use it, you stop,” he manages to say between breathy sounds.

“Mmh. Have you chosen one?”

“Uh, yeah. It’s— it’s ‘Poughkeepsie’. What if I—“. Dean has to pause and breathe. Maybe it’s just been way too long, but the deft way Cas is stroking his cock from behind should be illegal. “What if I don’t want you to stop?”

Dean can feel Cas’ smile without having to see it. “I get the feeling your body will let me know either way.” When he removes his hand, Dean whimpers and chases the lost contact. 

_ Point proven _ . 

“What about this?” Cas glides his hands down the length of Dean’s lightly freckled arms and collects his wrists in a tight grip, pinning them against the small of his back. “Do you still want this?”

“Please,” Dean gasps. 

“Use your words,” Cas tuts lowly against Dean’s ear, tightening his hold ever so slightly.

A surge of arousal courses through him and pools in his groin. Dean forces a rough swallow and an even exhale. “I want you to tie me up, Cas. Please.”

Cas practically purrs his praise. “You’re doing so good, Dean.” 

The simple statement makes Dean feel a buzz of euphoria. 

Releasing his wrists, Cas steps away towards the bed. On it sits a silk tie, a modestly sized dildo, a bottle of lubricant, and a strip of foiled condoms. But Dean hardly notices the items on the bed. Instead, his sights are glued to the long, lean lines of Cas’ body accentuated by the same leather harness Dean’s been jerking it to all week. Immediately, he can feel himself blushing, but he tries to will it away. He’s trying desperately not to seem like an absolute novice to the man standing in front of him despite everything and he’s probably failing miserably, but the effects of the leather definitely aren’t lost on him. The earthy, familiar scent of it reminds him vaguely of his car and leaves him wanting more. 

“Feelin’ a little overdressed here,” he jokes awkwardly to break the silence.

Cas bites his lower lip to abstain from laughing. “Then strip,” he says, reaching for the tie. “Let me look at you.”

With a moment of uncertainty, Dean lifts his rumpled black t-shirt over his head and drops it to the floor. His jeans and underwear pool around his feet in a heavy puddle. He kicks them aside, though he has to look away when he notices Cas contemplating every square inch of exposed flesh he’s just revealed. 

“Exquisite,” Cas relishes inwardly, as Dean’s whole body flushes in shades of red. A small smile lifts his lips at how uncomfortable Dean is with the praise. 

“What do you want me to do?”

“Turn around.”

Dean does as he’s told. The prospect of not knowing what happens next thrills him. The feeling of the silk against his skin is foreign and exhilarating as Cas weaves it over and under itself, tying it off with an intricate knot. He does it easily like he does it all the time. 

“Is that too tight?” 

Dean’s head is swimming from just the thought of being restrained. He forces himself to focus enough to shake his head. “It’s good. I- I like it.”

Cas slips two fingers in just to be sure. He leans in close and asks, “Have you ever opened yourself?”

“Like with fingers?”

“Like with fingers,” Cas affirms, once again with fond amusement. 

Dean’s stomach squirms. “Sometimes,” he admits. 

Trailing a fingertip down the length of Dean’s spine, it stops just short of pervading Dean’s crack. “What about toys?

“Once or twice. It, uh, just made me want the real deal so I stopped.”

“Mmh.” Castiel considers Dean’s words carefully. “I’m going to fuck you with a toy until you’re begging for me,” he promises while tugging on Dean’s bound wrists. “Get on your knees, Dean.”

With a sharp swallow, Dean kneels. He’s shivering from the chill in the air, but there’s excitement there too and he clings to it. Sitting back on his heels, Cas comes around to stand before him and inches his zipper down real slow. His full, heavy cock springs out of the opening and Cas strokes himself luxuriously like he’s dangling the bait before his prey and loving every second of it, but Dean can’t seem to tear his eyes away.

Cas steps closer and teases the shiny head along Dean’s soft lips and Dean whimpers. “Suck me,” he goads, “Let me see what your pretty mouth can do.”

They make eye contact and for a moment, Dean forgets that he’s never done this before either. Because he wants it. Right now, he wants it more than anything. 

Parting his lips, Dean peeks his tongue out to taste the bead of precum leaking out. It’s salty and bitter and Dean doesn’t care. He maintains the eye contact as he places a gentle, wet kiss to the tip and all along the shaft. Cas’ lip catches between his teeth in restrained anticipation as Dean flattens his tongue and licks a long line up the underside and when Dean’s lips finally fit around him Cas can’t help the groan that escapes him. 

Breathlessly, he watches Dean, enraptured. “That’s it.” 

Cas weaves his fingers into Dean’s short crop of hair and pulls hard. The pain makes Dean’s cock twitch against his thigh and he moans openly around the girth in his mouth. Building steady momentum, he starts bobbing and sucking with all he’s got, and the weight of Cas on his tongue, stretching out his jaw, makes him ache in the best way possible. The slick feeling of the silk on his wrists reminds him he couldn’t go anywhere even if he wanted to. 

“You’re doing so good for me,” Cas praises. “You look so good on your knees.” He thrusts his hips forward, and Dean chokes on his length as Cas fucks into his throat. There’s tears blurring his vision, but he’s rock hard now and he never knew such simple things could affect him this much. He doesn’t know why he waited so long to try any of this. All he knows for sure is he needs to get fucked like yesterday.

After Cas has had his fill, Dean pinches his eyes shut and grunts, pulling his head back as much as he can in Cas’ grip, and Cas gets the memo to pull out. 

“Dean? Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”

Breathlessly, Dean shakes his head, the saliva cooling on his chin as he heaves grounding breaths.

“Do you need to use your safe word?”

“No,” he rasps, “Need you to fuck my ass already.”

Cas’ eyes travel from his eyes to his swollen lips and then further as he leers at Dean’s flushed cock sitting pretty for him. “You’re impatient,” he says, “Normally, I would spank you for that.” 

“Please.” At Dean’s simpering groan, he smirks.

“Get on the bed.”

Dean doesn’t hesitate to stand, but it only causes his head to swim. He falls chest first onto the soft bedding and even that scant amount of friction rubbing against his erection makes him writhe. Awkwardly folding his legs underneath him, he twists his neck around to get a view of Cas as he devours the sight of Dean’s hole. With a barely-there brush of his fingertip, Dean shudders at the touch. No one else has ever touched him there before and some deep part inside of him threatens to swallow the feeling up.

“Cas,” he whines before a sharp sting lands on the meat of his ass. Cas’ large palm massages the pain away just enough to land another on the opposite cheek. He does a few more, alternating the pain with the pleasure, and Dean doesn’t know how long he lets it go on before his aching ass can’t take it anymore. “Fuck! Cas, please!”

Cas gives one more final sting before he reaches over Dean for the toy and the lube. He peppers Dean’s reddened ass with soft kisses as he steps out of his pants. “Red is a nice color on you,” he teases, and his breathy laugh dances across Dean’s inflamed skin. 

  
The snap of the lubricant bottle fills Dean with multiple conflicting emotions, but ultimately he’s filled with wanting. His hips raise off the mattress in anticipation of something,  _ anything _ , to touch him there and he sighs in relief when a wet finger teases his rim and eases inside.

“You are just as tight as I imagined,” Cas waxes in badly tempered lust. His finger plunges in deeper, stroking the walls, as he slides it out only to join it with a second. Dean moans wantonly into the bedding as Cas finds his prostate and presses mercilessly into it.

“You’re evil, you know that?” He gasps when Cas removes his fingers altogether.

“I can be,” he says, and the smile is evident in his tone. Within moments the cold sensation of the slicked up toy is pressing back into him again and Dean moans brazenly for it. It’s thicker than Cas’ fingers alone, but it’s not Cas and he knows it. It’s too smooth for one thing, and Cas’ cock is even thicker still. 

Dean rocks his hips back on it to take it as deep as he can, but Cas keeps it just out of range to get too far. This sort of torture is getting him off and Dean can tell by the wet sounds of Cas stroking himself to Dean’s desperation.

“Cas,” he pleads again, sweat dripping from his pent up urge to come already. “C’mon, man.”

“I don’t hear you begging,” Cas tuts, angling the toy to nail Dean’s prostate again.

“Please,” Dean mewls. His body is shaking with the desire to be stretched to the limit, to be split apart. “Just give it to me already. I don’t wanna come like this, man!”

Cas keeps fucking him with the toy as if he never heard him at all, hitting his prostate with every other insertion.

“Cas, please!”

He slows, slipping the toy out and dropping it to the bed. Dean cants his hips, desperately trying to chase away the empty feeling. Twisting his neck again, Dean’s flooded with relief when he sees Cas rolling a condom on and slicking himself up instead. He closes his eyes and sighs, but then he’s being forced to his knees again as Cas hauls him up by the wrists. 

“Tell me you want to come on my cock,” he purrs in his ear.

Without even knowing if he can, Dean gasps, “I want to come on your cock! I want you to—” He doesn’t get to finish before he’s being thrown into the mattress again face-first with his ass on display. 

Cas scoots closer, his hands roughly spreading Dean’s cheeks apart, before he finally,  _ finally _ lines himself up. The burning stretch as Dean sucks him in is worth every ounce of nerves and cheap liquor that led him here.

“Oh,  _ fuck _ yeah, Cas.  _ Fuck me _ ,” he drags out inelegant and wrecked as Cas snaps his hips forward and sets up a quick and steady pace. 

Dean’s moans are punched out of him from the inside with every hit to his prostate. Flexing against the restraint is futile and with the way his ass is in the air he can’t even get the subtle friction on his aching cock. Without any use of his hands, all Dean can do is go with the motions. He finds himself gripping the bedding between his teeth just to gain back some semblance of control, but it’s soon replaced with two snaking fingers as Cas spurs him to suck. 

Laving his tongue in and around them, Dean moans at the feeling of being filled from both ends, but he doesn’t expect the feeling of Cas pressing a spit-slicked finger inside him alongside his cock. Dean lets out a sharp, gasping cry as Cas tries to force the second finger in after it.

The fingers of Cas’ free hand tug against Dean’s scalp again, forcing his neck to crane backwards to meet his gaze. His pupils are lust-blown and his skin is flushed from the exertion, but in his primal haze there’s a kind of reverence there too. Dean feels it prickling beneath his skin. The way this stranger is looking at him makes Dean feel something dangerously close to a feeling he doesn’t do, but just as he wants to look away, Cas bends down to capture his lips in a kiss. The way Cas’ tongue forcefully invades Dean’s mouth is enough to have him spilling all over the bed with a pathetic whimper. Even when Dean’s spent, Cas keeps going. Keeps kissing him deeper, until inevitably he comes to that sharp edge too. 

“ _ Dean— _ ”

Knocking their foreheads together, he exhales hot and heavy against Dean’s skin before he fills the condom with a low, reverberating growl and he keeps rocking his hips until the last drop is milked out of him. He slips out with a heavy sigh as he strips himself of the condom and abruptly crosses the room to deposit it in the trash. Dean’s breathing is still heavy, erratic as he comes down from it all. 

Tenderly, Cas unties the knot binding him and rubs soothing circles into Dean’s wrists, arms, working his way up to his aching shoulders. “Are you alright?” He places a kiss there, between the blades, and Dean turns his head to look up at him. He can’t help, but laugh.

“I just got fucked so hard I came without even trying. So yeah, Cas, I’m pretty alright. How are you?”

Cas smiles down at him and it’s oddly bashful. “My terrible week is now infinitely better, so thank you.” Laying down next him, Cas starts doing something to his head, Dean can only describe as petting, but fuck if it doesn’t feel more intimate than anything that just happened between them. “I’d like to do this again. We could try whatever you want, or we could talk... Would you like that?”

The sounds of Led Zeppelin II scratching and restarting drips in from the other room and it’s in that moment that Dean realizes he can’t fathom the possibility of not seeing him again and it’s less about the orgasm and entirely about the way the man laying beside him is looking at him like  _ that  _ again. No, still. Nobody’s looked at him like that in a long time.

Suddenly swallowing has become more difficult than it should be. Dean has to look away to find the words. “Uh, yeah, Cas. I’d like that,” he says to the leather strap on his shoulder, “But, I- Maybe I could show you around town or something first? You could take some pictures?” 

Cas just stares at him and Dean feels dumb just for offering. “Are you asking me on a date?”

Dean dares to look him in the eye. “That depends.” 

“On?”

“Whether or not you say ‘yes’. Otherwise, my ass won’t be the only thing that’s bruised once I leave here,” he joked, but it didn’t lessen the fear of rejection.

A slow smile spreads across Cas’ face then and it eases something inside him just a little. “Let’s save the bruises for after our date.”


End file.
